Taboo
by Wildwolf
Summary: Naitachal reflecting on his newfound feelings of love of many types--love for friends, music, and a special type for Eliathanis.


TABOO 

Rating: PG

Genre: General/Romance

Pairing(s): Naitachal/Eliathanis

Warnings: Guy/guy stuff. Slash, shounen ai, whatever you wanna call it.

Disclaimer: I am not Mercedes Lackey, nor her publisher. I _want_ to steal the characters away and try the lil "they followed me home, can I keep them?" bit, but that may prove difficult. I'm still waiting for Naitachal to raise the composer Tartini from the dead so I can have my Devil's Trill violin music, but something's telling me that Naitachal is putting up one hell of a fight. I still don't have the music. Stupid backorder slip.

Plot: Takes place… end of chapter sixteen of Castle of Deception, I suppose. Err, after the end but before the beginning of the next. Naitachal reflects on his feelings and taboos and all that happy stuff. I hate summaries.

Notes: I like slash. I have so many little dog-ears in this book… and my friend still has my Josepha Sherman sequel to Castle of Deception. I want my Naitachal book back! 

I wrote this in about ten minutes. Sorry for any and all problems with it. It is also my first attempt that I remember to write in present tense—I usually write in past or an odd mix, I think.

He is across the campsite, a fire between us, as if trying to create some sort of accidental and coincidental barrier. He doesn't know that I hear it, but he is singing a song in our language. The ears of a Dark Elf hear nearly everything within their range. I can hear running water on my left; I can hear Lydia and Kevin in the forest, Lydia attempting to teach the young bardling about hunting and surviving on the land. An important talent, I must say from my own experience. I hear Tich'ki teasing Kevin, as her favorite pastime has become.

I can hear Eliathanis singing.

Does he know how beautiful he is in the lilting light of the fire? It waves back and forth on his person, the light, sending surrealistic shadows across him.

Wait, beautiful? No, that can't be right. Sure, I know that every Elf, whether White or Dark, is blessed with a sort of beauty and grace that a human would never dream of possessing, but not particularly beautiful was the White Elf before me. I couldn't think of him as higher than his kind. That would be taboo.

But do I not already do that by taking him as a friend? I've already broken taboos, haven't I? By caring whether or not this group liked me, by singing with them like I had this evening, the bardling attempting to teach me to play.

The song he sings now isn't a song of a heroic battle or person. It is ho song that even a full Bard could hope to accomplish. It is Elvin.

I stare longer and still he does not notice. He is cleaning his sword, polishing for the hundredth time, I swear. He moves with a liquid grace that I know every member of both our races posses, but I have not particularly noticed on anyone but him.

He is beautiful.

Dark Elves do feel lust, as is widely known. I feel a hint of that as I look at him. It's wrong to do so, but I do. There is something else, however, every time I look at him. There is a tugging in my heart. It's odd, it is similar to the friendship I feel, to the feel of playing an instrument and creating music—those are sorts of love, are they not? But what is it that I feel for Eliathanis?

I can't feel love for him above what I do for the others. I would have to admit to myself that my feelings, my sexuality, everything about me are not "normal" according to society's standards.

Then again, am I not abnormal by any standard anyway? By all other species, I am abnormal just for existing. By my own, I am wrong and disgusting because I feel remorse, feel friendship, and feel love. I have come to see light and life and fallen in love with them.

Taboos have been broken. I feel love, don't I? Love for music, love for company, love for life, and I have all but denounced the necromancy that my race is infamous for. What's one more taboo?

Maybe I can admit it… but not to anyone, can I? It's all too poetic, like the songs the Bards sing. A realization of existing love forbidden. I'm new with feelings, but I think this one is called love.

"Naitachal?" Eliathanis turns to me, concern hinting in his eyes. "Are you well?"

I nodded, averting my gaze to the fire. What should I care if he knows I was staring at him? Why should I care what he thinks?

Why do I care what he thinks?

"Are you sure?" He looked around. "You aren't feeling the call of necromancy again, are you?" He stood and did the worse thing he could do right now. He has walked over to me and sat down on the log on which I am sitting.

I shook my head and glanced over at him.

It's horrible that his eyes captivate me. They're so green and deep. I want to bring myself closer, but I know that we are already too close. I wonder how he sees my eyes.

I can't help myself. I reach up and touch his face softly. He looks surprised, but does not move, aside from a slight flinch at the moment of contact. Why do you not move when I touch you? Do you not feel repulsion for the ebony hand that contrasts your own pale skin?

What am I doing? I lean over and kiss him. He once again flinches, but does not pull away. He allows me to deepen it. You fool, why are you not pulling away in disgust? Why do you not scream and slap me and refuse to talk to me? I'm trying to forget that I ever felt anything, and you are not making it any easier for me. No, you seem to be encouraging it!

But his mouth is so warm and before I know it, I am holding him closer. His hands are grasping at my cloak. We can never go back now, can we? We've broken the ultimate taboo between our races.

Love, what is it so that it can make me do this? And does he feel it to? Is that why he is kissing me back? All in this moment, I feel so much. Jittery senses take over my stomach, pleasure, fear, relief, almost everything that a body can ever feel and so many new emotions that I have no name for.

It's time to end it and I loosen my grip and draw my head back. His eyes are at a half-slit as he pulls away as well, but then they widen and a blush comes over his face as he looks at me.

"I'm sorry." I apologize, looking away.

"No…" He says hesitantly after a few moments. "It's… something I didn't mind." He admits slowly. I turn to look at him. That blush is still on his face and he is looking down at the ground now. "For a few days now… I've felt a sort of love for you. I tried to get rid of it, for it is wrong, but I haven't been able to." He shakes his head in a sort of distress.

"I've felt… something… as well, but have only now tried to identify it." I pause. "I think it can be called love, or as much love as a Dark Elf is capable of feeling."

"Naitachal," he looks at me again, "I've from this trip that there are only two real differences between us: the color of our eyes and skin and the ways we were brought up."

"Aren't those all that really matter?" I ask.

"No!" He exclaims at me. It surprises me. "You have the same capability of feeling that I do! The same potential for goodness that I am glad to see that you are using, the same of everything inside! If you were a White Elf, the only difference would be the physical and how open you were to feeling!" He took a few deep breaths.

"I am sorry I am not a White Elf." I say this sincerely. This would be so much easier if I was, then we would only have to deal with one culture's taboos. Being a Dark Elf has done nothing good for me.

"No, it is because you are learning this light, that you are slowly revealing who you really are to us, that I-" He pauses. It feels so painful. "-That I love you like this."

He has said it, and we are silent for many moments. I can still hear everything that I heard before. The others are still laughing and joking in the woods. I believe that they may have caught something.

"We can't let it get out." I say finally.

"No." He shakes his head.

"It would probably be best if we forget, to save us both."

He nods.

I reach over and kiss him one last time, much softer than the last one. Then again, this will be the last. "Now I can forget." I say softly to his lips. He shudders slightly and nods.

I stand and go to my sleeping place, leaving him on the log. I don't know what he plans on doing to his memories, but I know that I never intend upon forgetting this night. And maybe someday, if we survive this and he still feels for me, then we can run away and live somewhere, no doubt among the humans that we are both becoming fond of, together.


End file.
